Popular from its premiere through to the mid-twentieth century, the operetta
Der Opernball is probably the best-known work by the composer Richard
Heuberger. As familiar as the work has been on-stage, it was filmed several
times, specifically in 1939 (unfortunately without much of the score), 1956
and 1970. This DVD is a transfer of the last film, which is based on a production
of the work in Munich. The 1970 film benefits from the close angles and controlled
sound of the studio in order to bring the audience into the stage action.
While the result may lack the dynamic interaction with an audience, it still
conveys the immediacy of an effective theatrical production.

Perhaps less familiar to modern audiences than Johann Strauss’s Der
Fledermaus (1874) and Franz Lehár’s Die Lustige Witwe
(1905), Heuberger’s 1898 Der Opernball falls aesthetically and
chronologically between those two works. With its use of waltzes and dance
rhythms, Der Opernball fits into the conventions associated with operetta
at the turn of the last century, but stands apart from others of the time
because of its cleverly plotted story.

The libretto for Der Opernball is a theatrical farce from 1876 by Alfred
Delacour and Alfred Hennequin, and features a double deception between a pair
of wives and their husbands. This is complicated by the intrigues of Hortense,
the maid of one of the couples. In the good operatic tradition of testing
the faithfulness of spouses, the wives set up a deception to intrigue their
husbands, while trusting that the men will not succumb to it. Here, the wives
specifically plan assignations with an unnamed countess, who plans to attend
the opera ball in a pink-hooded robe (the domino rose of the libretto) and
masked. When both wives decide to try their husband’s virtue, the maid
pursues the ruse herself, and the dénouement involves three women in
the same disguise, an anomaly that never strikes the men as at all unusual.
The complications ensue when the husbands seem intrigued by the others’
wives and pursue conversations in the private dining rooms at the ball. These
secluded rooms are the “chambre séparée” that becomes
the subject of a recurring waltz “Gehen wir ins Chambre séparée”
in the final act. The complications are predictably temporary, with the couples
resolving their differences with remarkable speed and the maid winning the
nephew as her husband.

As to the film, the action is framed as the exchange between painter Toulouse-Lautrec
and his model Giselle, who set up the story at the beginning and narrate the
Finale as they reminisce about memorable events of carnival season. This device
is useful in setting up the conclusion. While the painter and his model talk
about the morning after the ball, the filmed images are manipulated to comic
effect through the speeding up or slowing of the images to bring out the humor
of the expected duel and reconciliation. This self-conscious treatment of
the conclusion works well in the film, which evokes some aspects of stop-action
found in Widerberg’s 1967 film Elvira Madigan.

Yet some other aspects of the film do not work as well. The use of actors
with dubbed voices is problematic: The acting is good, and the singing laudable,
but the synching is poor, sometimes unintentionally comic. The latter is not
the fault of the DVD transfer, but a weakness of the original film. While
the lips do not always move seamlessly with the sound, the viewer easily compensates
for this minor failing. In this transfer, the images are crisp and clear,
with the resolution sufficiently fine to allow the details in the painted
flats of the drawing room in the first act to call to mind paintings from
the era. A similar clarity is to be found with the sound, which is nicely
resonant.

All in all, the performances give a sense of the work, especially through
continuity which remains an attractive element of the film The action moves
smoothly between the scenes and plays well into the timing necessary for the
comic twists. In the first part of the work, the somewhat sentimental aria
“Man liebt nur einmal auf der Welt” is nicely put across by Harald
Serafin (Paul), and its repetition is not unwelcome. Yet its reprise is not
allowed to halt the action, with the character Feodora played by Beata Hasenau
nicely upstaging Serafin’s reverie by interrupting him and calling for
a can-can. Other numbers are memorable, such as the letter scene in the first
act underscored with the ensemble “Heute abend”, in which the
women Helen Mané (Angèle), Maria Tiboldi (Marguerite), Tatjana
Iwanow (Palmira) and Christiane Schröder (Hortense) compose the messages
to the husbands and anticipate the excitement of the opera ball of the title.
The patter songs of the nephew Henri, portrayed by Uwe Friedrichsen, suggest
some aspects of Gilbert and Sullivan, especially in the first act number “Ich
habe die Fahrt um Kap Horn gemacht,” with its use of nautical convention.
Ultimately the “Chambre separée” waltz recurs sufficiently
to identify its music with work, a feature that is not unwelcome. The timing
in the film allows it to work cogently within this interpretation of the operetta.

The film also merits attention for the effective sets, which make use of the
graphic style of fin-de-siècle Paris to reinforce the style implicit
in the music. The conscious evocation of Toulouse-Lautrec is brought to life
through the choreography, with its homage to the can-can immortalized in art.
Beyond the spirit of the period, the film captures the spirit of Heuberger’s
famous operetta. While this work is now staged infrequently, the release of
this film builds a case for reviving Der Opernball so that modern audiences
might enjoy its charms.

James L. Zychowicz

Captures the attractive spirit of this famous operetta and builds a case for
revival so that modern audiences might enjoy its charms.